


Programmed Responses

by Andraste



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-06
Updated: 2006-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andraste/pseuds/Andraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor keeps the Master around for a reason. A late entry for Doctor Who Bondage Month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Programmed Responses

**Author's Note:**

> You do not need to have watched any particular bits of _Doctor Who_ in order for this to make sense. Or at least I hope you don't.
> 
> This story is set at some point before _The Scream of the Shalka_, which features a Doctor often known as the Alternative Ninth Doctor, played by Richard E. Grant. Since that's a bit of a mouthful, Outpost Gallifrey calls him the Nth Doctor. While he was _intended_ to be the Ninth Doctor before the new series was commissioned, his canonicity and numerical placement has now been rendered uncertain. He is both canon and not-canon, a bit like Schrödinger's cat.
> 
> For the purposes of this story, I am _only_ considering the _Scream of the Shalka_ webcast as Nth Doctor canon. I have not read the novelisation. (Also, if novelisations were canon there would be a floating severed head in _Frontios_.)

The Doctor's stamina was really quite impressive. The first few minutes of shouting and futile struggle had been followed by almost an hour of pleading and begging. The Master had thoroughly enjoyed both phases, while pretending to ignore his companion entirely as he made small adjustments at the TARDIS console. He had even left the room a few times in search of equipment, and the third time he returned the Doctor had given up and was slumped in silence against the staircase the Master had tied him to. It was much quieter now, but not nearly as entertaining.

He strolled over to his bound victim and stood over him, hands clasped behind his back. "Are you going to be a good boy now, Doctor?"

The Doctor's red-rimmed blue eyes glared up at him, simmering with anger and sorrow. The Master wondered for a moment if he was going to get the silent treatment now, but the Doctor had never been able to resist stating the obvious.

"You're programmed not to hurt me – not to hurt anyone. Would you care to explain how it is that you were able to get around that for long enough to punch me in the jaw and tie me up?"

"It was for your own good," the Master replied airily.

"Remind me to fix that loophole immediately."

"Come now, Doctor, where would be the fun in that?"

In fact, his electronic restraints had several such oversights, and the Master liked it that way. His body might be made of metal and circuitry now, but he was by no means a mere robot. He still possessed the same sense of judgement he'd had as an organic being – perhaps _more_ judgement than his last few incarnations, if he was being scrupulously honest. His primary responsibility was to protect the Doctor, and that included protecting him from himself.

"You really don't care, do you?"

Something – it certainly couldn't be conscience – stirred in him despite himself. He crouched down in front of the Doctor in order to speak to him on more equal terms.

"Do you even need to ask? I think we've established that I am incapable."

"But a whole world, a whole people ..."

"People you could do nothing to help. Dying with them would not have accomplished anything, and I certainly couldn't allow you to destroy the TARDIS in an illogical attempt to rescue them."

"You mean that you couldn't let me destroy you."

The Master shrugged. "If you want to put it that way." His sense of self-preservation was still intact, or he would hardly have chosen this limited form of existence in the first place.

"Are you going to let me up now?"

"Hmmmmmmm." The Master reached out to cup the Doctor's chin in his hand, considering. "No."

Seeing the Doctor in this position had always had an effect on him, and if anything it was more powerful now. Intellectually, he knew that he lacked the chemical capacity to feel lust, but that had not proved an obstacle to any of his emotions so far. The union of his spirit - for lack of a more scientific term - and the body the Doctor had made for him was a thing of complicated beauty.

"I want you to untie me immediately," the Doctor said, with a passable attempt at firmness.

The Master ran a finger up the side of the Doctor's jaw, tracing the bruise that had barely managed to form before his Gallifreyan body began repairing the damage and melting it away.

"That isn't what you said last night."

The Doctor could protest all he liked – this was a large part of the reason he kept the Master around. When he'd woken up in his new body sporting an extremely realistic nine-inch cock, it hadn't taken long to deduce that the Doctor had not resurrected him out of pure gratitude. He'd never been able to get his ressurector to tell him whether he'd left the balls off for aesthetic reasons or as a cruel joke. Knowing the Doctor, it was probably both.

Just as he was wondering whether it was too soon to start unbuttoning the Doctor's clothes, his victim changed the subject unexpectedly.

"You could leave."

"Whatever do you mean by that?" While it might be entertaining to leave the Doctor stewing here for a bit longer, he was not in the mood to tease him just now.

"If you can break your programming enough to be able to punch me and tie me up, you could break your programming well enough to get out of the TARDIS. Don't pretend that it hasn't crossed your mind."

"On a daily basis, I assure you."

"Then why not go? As far as I can tell, you haven't even _tried_ to escape. That isn't quite what I expected when I brought you back."

"Why would I want to do that, when the company here is so pleasant?"

It was safe to be flippant, because the Doctor would never guess the truth. The Master hadn't tried to leave yet because he was terrified that he might turn around and come back. To be a prisoner was one thing, to discover that he was here voluntarily would have been unbearable.

"It won't be so pleasant in future if you don't let me go."

"If you want me to untie you, then force me. I don't think you're stupid enough not to have put a verbally controlled override into my systems."

The Doctor smiled slightly. "Touché."

The Master sighed, and sat back on his heels. "My dear Doctor, I believe we're at an impasse."

"Then untie me."

"Give me one reason I'd want to."

"Because this would be so much more entertaining in a room with suitable furnishings?"

Now he wanted the Master to make him forget how this had begun, to turn it into a game. To make him forget about the dead worlds, the dead girls. The Master was only too happy to comply. They would find a mattress somewhere for one of them to pound the other into, and tomorrow they would pretend that this entire incident had never occurred.

"If you promise to be a good boy ..."

"But never too good."

There was only a slight trace of bitterness in his voice as the Master moved onto the stairs to begin carefully undoing the knots that held the Doctor in place.


End file.
